


Gunshy

by idyll



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-03
Updated: 2007-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony quit NCIS once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunshy

Tony quit NCIS once.

Late one night in his first year he finished his reports for the most recent case, caught up on some backlog, and left all the files stacked on Gibbs' desk with his resignation letter (effective immediately) sitting neatly on top.

The whole thing was surreal. Gibbs stared at him for a long time after he read the letter, nodded when Tony asked that it be kept quiet (kept from Vivian, Abby and Ducky, he meant), and didn't ask a single question.

At the end of the day, Tony held out his hand and said, "It's been great working with you, Boss," and Gibbs just grunted, "I'm not your boss anymore, DiNozzo," and then walked up to MTAC.

Tony went to New Orleans for a week, spent the entire time drunk and fucking, and slept away his hangover on the flight home.

He was stiff, sore and fucked calm when he walked into his apartment, which is probably why he didn't jump and reach for a weapon he wasn't even wearing when he saw Gibbs on his couch.

There was a pile of confetti on the coffee table, under the heels that Gibbs had propped there. Tony recognized the papers that he'd left on his kitchen table, lists of law enforcement agencies, moving companies and storage facilities.

"Aw, you picked my lock," Tony said with a grin and Gibbs glared at him. Tony dropped his two pieces of luggage and closed the door. "Hope you weren't waiting long; I was--"

"In New Orleans, staying at the Hyatt in room five-seventeen. You spent about a grand this week--almost entirely on booze--and about a dozen people came and went from your room." Gibbs lowered his legs from the coffee table, bits of Tony's shredded lists falling to the floor. Tony blinked and Gibbs stood up. "You caught a United Airlines flight home at 0600, Central Time. Landed about an hour ago."

"It's not the least bit disturbing or creepy that you know all of that, Gibbs," Tony said with a grin, but there was something tight and dense in his stomach, sitting there like lead. "Did I forget to cross an I or dot a T on a report or something?"

Gibbs eyed him up and down, and Tony froze, feeling like Gibbs could see every handprint and suckmark on his body through his clothes, could even see the vague soreness of his muscles.

"Did it work?" Gibbs asked.

Tony opened and closed his mouth, got a hold of himself, and sent Gibbs a smirk. "That's kind of a personal question, isn't it? The working of a man's equipment is between him and--"

"Cut the crap," Gibbs snapped, and then he was right in front of Tony, crowding him back against the closed door, until their chests were pressed together and their feet tangled up. "Seven days of booze and sex to get the taste of that last case out of your mouth. I want to know if it worked."

And Tony, who always had words for anything and everything, couldn't think of a damn thing to say because right then all he could see in his head were three dead teenage girls, carved up like meat, limbs twisted at angles that were wrongwrongwrong, their faces painted serene and angelic.

He slumped back against the door, heart slamming against his ribcage, and rasped, "God. I _hate_ you," to Gibbs. Because he did, he really fucking did. Just a few minutes before he'd been loose and easy, not a single thought of this in his head, and now it was all right there, strangling him, eating at his insides like acid.

Gibbs pressed up against him, closer and harder, solid and immovable, and Tony struggled to breathe, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"It didn't work," Gibbs hissed. "It _won't_ work. You keep running from jobs after cases like this and pretty soon there won't be a city or an agency left for you to run to."

And, of course Gibbs had looked that deeply into Tony's file, had seen the connection that Tony himself ignored and pretended didn't exist until right then.

He bent his head forward and threw up on Gibbs' shoes, and Gibbs didn't back down even an inch, just said, "I don't hire cowards, DiNozzo, and I don't make mistakes. You will find a way to deal with this kind of shit in the next two days, and you will report to work on Monday."

Tony banged his head back against the door and tried to breathe. "I turned in my resig--"

"What resignation?" Gibbs asked without inflection and Tony dry-heaved until his body was exhausted, and then Gibbs wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to his bedroom.

"Monday," Gibbs ordered after he'd deposited Tony on his bed.

"Lock the door on your way out," Tony said by way of agreement.

.End


End file.
